Of Christmas Pies
by Mountainside Kilts
Summary: What happens when the four students most likely to cause disaster that Hogwarts has ever produced team up, and try and bake a pie? Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs in their most exciting adventure yet. Parts 4 & 5 Now Up
1. Introduction

Of Christmas Pies

Of Christmas Pies

****

What happens when the four students most likely to cause disaster that Hogwarts has ever produced team up, and try and bake a pie? The disaster that is sure to occur can only be something to laugh at. Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs in their most exciting adventure yet.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

It was Christmas morning, and the four roommates were sitting around amidst scraps of wrapping paper and buried presents. Well, three of them were anyway. James Potter, Peter Pettegrew, and Remus Lupin could hear the voice of their friend Sirius Black, talking in the kitchen. Though they were wizards, two of them were Muggle born, so they often did things the Muggle way. "Besides," James had once said, "Muggle things can be loads more fun."

So, the three boys were sitting on the couch, waiting for Sirius to get through talking with his mother on the telephone. Straining their ears, they could manage to hear some of his words. Finally,

"Yes, Mum. Of course, Mum. I love you too, Mum. Y– yes Mum. Yes. Good_bye,_ Mum. _Yes_. Goodbye. We will. Yes. Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye. _Goodbye._" The sound of the phone hanging up could be heard, and Sirius's was walking back towards his friends. The tall nineteen-year-old collapsed into an armchair. He sat up again almost immediately, and pulled Remus's new sneakoscope out from under him. The device was momentarily flying across the room, and when it slammed against the peeling wall and dropped with a thump to the floor, Remus stood and made to pick it up.

"Ugh," said Sirius, obviously disgusted, "That woman can talk." Peter rolled his eyes.

"You can say that again." Being the only one, save Sirius, who could use the telephone, he had to deal with her a fair few times himself.

Suddenly, Sirius's face grew into a falsely innocent, syrupy smile. Everyone else groaned.

"What on earth is it _now_, Sirius?" asked Remus.

"Well," he started, "You know how I'm going to Mum's this evening for Christmas dinner?" His friends eyed him warily, but did not say a word. Peter merely raised his eyebrows. "Well, she invited you three over too." Each one let out a sigh of relief.

"That's not bad, then. None of us are going home anyway," James said.

"Yeah," remarked Peter, "We were just going to have Chinese take-away and maybe bug Lily and Elizabeth to come over." Lily and Elizabeth were James and Peter's girlfriends. Remus never bothered with one, being a werewolf and all, and Sirius had a different one every week.

"_Anyway,_" Sirius continued, "I wasn't finished. I also promised her–"

"No," Remus butted in, "No. Do not say it. Whatever you told her we'd do, it'll end up in disaster. So if you don't say, it, we can just get the takeout and have a good time."

"I promised her we'd bring the pie." He had obviously ignored whatever Remus had said.

"Easy," said James. He pulled out his wand, and opened his mouth, ready to say something. But before he could, Sirius grabbed it out of his hand.

"The_ Muggle_ way. You know how this magic stuff still scares her."

Everyone stared at Sirius. Sirius stared back. Finally,

"You mean," said Peter slowly, "That you want – _us!_ – to bake a pie?" Sirius nodded his head. "That's impossible! James and Remus barely know what an oven is, and I highly doubt that you and I could ever bake something that complicated! Hell, we're lucky if we can cook soup without blowing something up. How are we supposed to make a bloody pie?"

"Well," started Sirius, "we'll never know unless we try."

"I hate it when he says that," said James under his breath. Sirius obviously didn't hear him.

"So. Are you in? Or are you out? Men or– er– something weaker than men?" 

"_Mice_, Sirius."

"Whatever." After misquoting, Sirius grinned at his friends. One by one, they rolled their eyes and told Sirius they would help him.

"Great!" he grinned. "Now. The first thing we'll need is a good recipe." He looked around at his friends. "Peter, could you get the recipe? I'm going to explain to these morons what an oven is." The two Muggle-borns grinned at each other, and Peter stood up.

"Alright Padfoot," he sighed, "See you all in a bit, then." And he grabbed his coat, his wand, and walked out the front door of the apartment. His footsteps could be heard going down the hall, and down the steps.

"Now then," said Sirius, in an uncanny imitation of Minerva McGonagall, one of their Hogwarts professors, "Today we will be learning about ovens. Follow me, class, and if I see ANY fooling around, twenty hundred million points from Gryffindor." He marched into the small kitchen of their apartment, his head in the air, closely followed by Remus and James, who were sniggering under their breaths, their wry grins noticeable from a mile away. When the laughter had finally died down, and Sirius had returned to being Sirius, the trio ambled over to a large, rusty gadget in the corner of the kitchen: one that obviously hadn't been used in quite some time. The boys walked close to it, Sirius in the lead and, as James and Remus looked closely, Sirius blew the dust off of the top, and patted the sheet of metal.

"This," he said, looking fondly at the contraption, "is our oven." Remus suddenly went wide-eyed.

"Really?" he gasped, amazed. "_This_ is our oven? Ha!" He clapped himself on the head with the palm of his hand. "And to think… all this time I've been thinking it was a bit of scrap metal…" Sirius let out a snort of laughter.

"'Course not, Remus! This is an oven! And today, we're learning how to work it." For a moment, each eyed the machine – two pairs of eyes filled with suspicion, and one filled with something indescribable – fondness? Love? Lust?

Finally, Sirius spoke.

"And now, good sirs, we shall learn the complicated ways of the oven. First lesson. This," said he, pointing to a small, black knob towards the front, "is called the _'On Button'_. Say it with me now," and this time, the three chorused, "_On Button._"

"Very good!" cried Sirius, obviously delighted. "Now, we'll need a volunteer, would someone like to try and turn the oven on?" Sirius looked at his two students. Neither one moved. After a moment of silence, James let out a cough, which, for some reason, Sirius took as a move to volunteer. He grabbed James' hand, and pulled him with such force, the arm nearly came out of its socket, all the while calling, "Yes! We have a volunteer! Yes!" As they reached the oven, Sirius proceeded to further question James.

"Now," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "This is our first day of class, so I'm still not quite clear on names. Be a dear, and tell me. What are you called?" He smiled a waiting smile at his friend, who was obviously taken by surprise.

"Er – James?" He voiced, wary of Sirius and his sanity.

"Very good then erJames. Now. Please turn on the oven." With a switch of his hand, James turned the switch, and the oven had obviously gone on.

"Excelent! Very well done! Three hundred twenty-seven and a half points to Gryffindor!" James walked back to Remus, and they rolled their eyes. Sirius, however, spotted them. "Now, don't have me be taking those points away!"

The so-called 'lesson' went on in this fashion for quite some time, though, nearing the more – advanced – material, Remus was nursing several burnt fingers, and James was having difficulty putting out the fire that had started atop his shirt. Sirius was simply standing there, sporadically exclaiming inspirational things such as 'Excelent!' or 'Very good!' or 'No! No! Remus, you can't put out a grease fire with _water_! No!' Perhaps he forgot about the part occasionally.

When the group was covering the difference between the stove-top back-burner and front-burner buttons, ("No, James, that's the front-bur – AHHH! PUT OUT THE FIRE!"), Peter showed up at the door, holding in his hand a small piece of parchment. Perhaps it was paper. But nevertheless, he held it up, and began walking toward them, careful to avoid some embers still glowing on James's shirt.

"Sirius," he said, once in hearing range, "I've got a recipe." Sirius grinned his famous grin, and turned to Peter.

"Excelent! What kind?"

"Cherry."

"Mmmm…" Sirius licked his lips. He had always been rather fond of cherry pie. Then again, he had always been fond of anything edible in general, save strained turnips. Sirius grabbed hold of the card, and gave it a quick glance. After reading it more thoroughly, he looked up into the eyes of his companions, and began the project.

"Right then. First thing we'll need are ingredients. Remus, _don't_ tell me you don't know what ingredients are…"

"Don't worry. I do."

"Good, because I don't know how to explain it. Anyhow, I suppose we can split into two groups. As much as I hate doing this, James, you and Remus go on together. You've got to find – are you writing this down, you two? – sugar, almond extract, and cornstarch. Got that?" The two nodded in unison. "Right then. Peter and I'll take the rest. Well, by my troth, I am off! Come on Peter!" And the two boys sped off, looking rather silly – Sirius, at least a foot taller than Peter, was still clad in his Gryffindor-red undergarments. He was liable to forget small details like pants sometimes.

James and Remus stood in the living room, shaking their heads at the two who had most recently left the room.

"Raving mad, the both of them," Remus mused. After a moment of chuckling to themselves, the duo acknowledged one another. Turning to his friend, James said:

"Well, we'd best be off. Sirius'll have a fit if we don't have all of the ingredients by the time he gets back. I mean, spending all of that valuable time teaching us to use an oven." They grinned at each other, Remus picked up his scribbled list, and they followed their friends' suit, both properly dressed.

Author's Note ----- Well, there's part one. Please be kind and leave a review. Flames welcome – Sirius's oven is a bit short on gas. The next part is coming soon, whether you anticipate it with hope or dread.

Disclaimer ----- All of the characters, save the briefly mentioned Elizabeth, belong to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. 


	2. 

Of Christmas Pies

Of Christmas Pies

****

What happens when the four students most likely to cause disaster that Hogwarts has ever produced team up, and try and bake a pie? The disaster that is sure to occur can only be something to laugh at. Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs in their most exciting adventure yet.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

After running for several blocks, Peter and Sirius, both winded, stopped to catch their breath.

"Well," Sirius panted out after a moment or two, "how much further until we have to get to the grocery?" Wiping sweat from his brow, he stared at Peter expectantly.

"Another block or so?" Peter managed to choke out. He wiped his forehead, and leaned up against a telephone pole. "For goodness' sake, Sirius, why do you keep forgetting to dress fully?" Sirius looked down, and seeing only his scarlet undergarments, he turned a matching shade.

"Whoops… I thought it felt a bit drafty…" Peter rolled his eyes, pulled his friend into a nearby alley, and handed him a wand.

"Sirius, just magic some pants onto yourself or something." Sirius thought a moment, and muttered a spell. He was now not only clad in a bright orange shirt, but also fancy black tuxedo pants. Handing the wand back to Peter, he shrugged.

"It'll have to do for now. Mum'll _kill_ me if we're late for dinner."

"Yeah," Peter gave his friend a dry grin. "And we wouldn't want _that_, now would we?" Luckily, Sirius missed the sarcasm.

"I know. It would be perfectly horrible." By this time, both had caught their breath, and the two set off once more at a sprint, aiming for the next street.

After a while, the boys reached their destination, the market. Browsing through the different items, Sirius spoke.

"I wonder," he said, "why there are so many kinds and brands of Peanut Butter." Peter looked at him. Sirius began to explain. "I mean to say, I really love Peanut Butter, and the selection is great and all, but – why? I mean, which came first, chunky or smooth? And If smooth came first, who thought: 'Why not make Peanut Butter with peanut bits inside?' And if chunky did in fact come first, who thought: 'Why not take _out_ the peanut bits?' And why are there so many different companies who like to make peanut butter? I mean, why not just have 'The Peanut Butter Company'? And while we're at it, why not 'The Yogurt Company' and 'The Pickle Company'?

"Another thing – is there really butter in Peanut Butter? And why _jelly_? Couldn't we just as easily have eaten Peanut Butter and corned beef? Or catsup?" He would most likely have gone on for quite some time, had Peter not have stopped him.

"Sirius, it'd take a long time to explain, and I haven't got that much breath _or_ patience, so why don't you write a letter to a Peanut Butter company when we get home, alright?"

"Alright, Wormtail. But, which one? I mean, there are –"

"Sirius, just pick anyone."

"Oh alright then. But lets get some Peanut Butter while we're here, so I can get the address off of the back of a jar. I doubt that there is a wizarding Peanut Butter Company, and the Peanut Butter people would be very surprised to have my owl fly in through the window one day. Besides, he might eat all of their peanuts."

"Sure Sirius. We'll get some Peanut Butter."

"Great, thanks!" Eventually, they had three jars of peanut butter (Sirius couldn't decide on one brand), cherries, butter, food dye, and a pie pastry in their basket. Sirius would've insisted on making their own pastry from scratch, but Peter objected that it was dangerous enough that they were putting the cherries in one. There was no arguing to this, so Sirius agreed.

Waiting at the checkout line, Sirius nudged Peter in the side, and pointed to the girl at the register.

"Pretty, isn't she?"

"Sirius, your not going to –" Peter had a twisted sort of grin on his face, one that exactly matched his friend's.

"I think I will."

When the line had finally shortened, Peter and Sirius stood before the girl. She was dressed in the green and white uniform the shop required, and her nametag clearly read 'Eleanor'. As they handed her the items in their basket, Sirius started.

"Hello, Ellie. May I call you Ellie?"

"No. I hate it when people call me Ellie. I prefer Eleanor." The girl had light-brown hair, almost tan, and it would have fallen down to her mid back, had it not been tied back with a green and white ribbon, and she had gray eyes.

"Oh. Well, how's work going?" Peter said this. He couldn't help it.

"Not bad. Earning a decent pay."

"Really," Sirius remarked halfheartedly. "How'd you like to go dancing on, say, Friday night?" The girl looked up at him, startled.

"Er – I hate to be rude, but I don't even know your name."

"Oh, terribly sorry. I'm Sirius, Sirius Black, and this is my good friend Peter Pettegrew." She eyed them curiously for a moment, obviously contemplating something.

"Have we met? Your names sound awfully familiar." Our heroes were taken aback.

"I'm sure we haven't," said Peter. By now, the girl had completely foorgotten the items that she was supposed to be charging them for.

"But I know I've heard your names somewhere."

"Well," Peter started, "I would've remembered if I'd met you, trust me." She grinned, but didn't lose the contemplative look in her eyes.

"No, I believe I would've remembered two boys as good-looking as yourselves as well. But I know I've heard your names."

"I'm sorry, but I'm_ sure_ that –" She snapped her fingers.

"I _knew_ it! I knew I'd heard of you two before! Tell me, do you know someone called Remus Lupin?" They stared at her a moment before Peter uttered:

"Yes. He's our friend from Hog– from school." Her face broke out into a wide grin.

"I should've guessed!"

"What?" She laughed.

"He's my cousin!" Sirius and Peter stared at her – Peter feeling like crawling into a hole, and Sirius mentally beating himself over the head with a fairly large stick. Finally,

"Eep." She laughed again.

"Wait until I tell him that one of his best friends – in an orange shirt, nonetheless – tried to ask me on a date!" Sirius and Peter simultaneously gulped. Both knew how sensitive Remus was about family. They'd heard him talk of his cousin Eleanor often, and she did indeed look a lot like him, but unfortionaltly, neither one had made the connection. And Remus knew what Sirius usually did on dates. If he found out, they'd never make it to the next day.

"Erm –" Peter said hurriedly, "Look at the time. We must be off. Have a good day. Good-bye!" Sirius dropped a few pounds on the countertop, Peter picked up the items in his bag, and both took off at such a speed they could have raced a unicorn and won.

Eleanor was left staring after the two boys.

"How very strange," she muttered to herself, "I wonder what on earth Remus could've seen in them." Shaking her head, she returned to her work, helping an elderly lady who seemed to be a bit annoyed with her wait.

Three blocks away, Sirius and Peter stood, once again, panting for breath. Finally, they looked at each other, and burst out laughing. They sat like that for several minutes, just laughing until they could hardly breathe. Finally, Sirius brought himself to his feet, wiped tears from his eyes, and, ignoring weird stares from passerby, he hauled Peter to his feet.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting predicament." Peter grinned, and replied.

"You can most definitely say that again."

"Let's just pray that she never tells Remus, no?"

"Yeah. Come on, let's get back to the apartment."

"Alright. You know, now that I think about it, they look alike… the same hair and eyes and all…"

"You're right. I wonder if her last name is Lupin."

"We'll have to ask Remus later." And the two set off down the road, heading back to their apartment, ingredients – and enough Peanut Butter for two months – in hand.

Author's Note ----- Lord, this story is writing itself, and quite honestly, it's scaring me. J If anyone is interested in beta reading the rest of this for me _please_ email me at [][1]padfoot@optonline.net – I could really use a beta reader. Anyway, there's part number two. Please be kind and leave a review. Flames are welcome – Sirius's oven is a bit short on gas. The next part is coming soon, whether you anticipate it with hope or dread.

Disclaimer ----- Anything related to the Harry Potter books that is mentioned belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything and everyone else belongs to me.

   [1]: mailto:padfoot@optonline.net



	3. Moony & Prongs

Of Christmas Pies

Of Christmas Pies

__

What happens when the four students most likely to cause disaster that Hogwarts has ever produced team up, and try and bake a pie? The disaster that is sure to occur can only be something to laugh at. Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs in their most exciting adventure yet.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Whilst Sirius and Peter were browsing among aisles and aisles of Peanut Butter, James and Remus were having enough troubles of their own. Traveling down the sidewalk, James suddenly grabbed his friend's arm.

"Remus," he voiced nervously, "Have been to Cromwell Road very often?" Remus looked over at the other boy.

"Not regularly, why?"

"Well, that's where we are. I think we're lost." Remus glanced up at the street sign, and, sure enough, the duo could be found on Cromwell Road, all the way across town from their apartment. Remus shrugged James' arm off.

"Oh well," he said nonchalantly, "Perhaps there's a grocery on Cromwell." Looking his friend in the eye, James sighed.

"Maybe so. Come on, let's go." He started off down the street at a jog.

"Hey!" Remus called after him, "That rhymes! Wait for me!" And he set off, sprinting to catch up with his friend.

After wandering aimlessly around for the longest of times, ("Maybe ten whole minutes!" James had said.) James stopped short. Turning on his heel, Remus looked at him.

"Maybe we should ask someone. I don't know about you, but I still don't have any idea where we are." Remus sighed.

"If it'd make you feel any better, James, I suppose we could." James brightened.

"Great!"

"Come on Prongs." They made their way several yards down the street, when they ran into someone. I mean, literally, ran into him. They were going at such a speed, that they crashed into him, knocking him and his two little girls sprawling. Standing up and wiping dirty snow from his overcoat, the man looked more than a little annoyed. As he helped the blonde-headed girl to her feet, James spoke.

"Pardon me, but could you by any chance tell us if there's a grocery any where near here?" Helping the brown-haired girl to her feet, and adjusting her lurid pink earmuffs, he gave them such a cold look of annoyance that he could have curled socks, had Remus and James actually been a pair of woolen ones. Without giving an answer, the three walked away, the man donning a sour look, and the brunette girl whispering loudly, "Those were pretty people, Uncle Lucius!"

Shrugging at his friend, James turned to a fairly large woman walking by.

"Er – excuse me, ma'am, but could you please tell us if there's a grocery near here?"

"Why sure, lad!" The lady had a loud, booming Scottish voice, sounding a bit intoxicated, and, judging by her breath, Remus guessed that she had been treating herself to a _bit_ more Christmas cheer than she should have.

"In fact," she continued, absently fiddling with the buttons on the front of her large, pale-orange dress, "I was heading in that gen'ral direction meself! Why don't you come along now, ey?"

"Er – I guess so, why not?" Remus replied, raising his eyebrows at his friend. As they walked along, the boys guessed that the woman, who identified herself as Mrs. MacArthur, was quite the more inebriated than they took her for at first. She talked on and on, hardly remembering that Remus and James were at her side. 

"You boys will be what, eight, now then? Yes, I remember my thirteenth Christmas well. Sick I was, nasty bit of pneumonia, I believe. Oh but don't you worry, now, I'll be better before we opened presents." She chuckled absently, and James raised his eyebrows at Remus. This woman wasn't making an ounce of sense. They politely listen to her ramble on for a bit, not really hearing anything she was saying, until they reached their destination. As they were about to completely pass the grocery, Remus cleared his throat loudly, and Mrs. MacArthur stared at him, her large frame swaying from side to side.

"Er – excuse me, ma'am, but, this is the grocery, and we'd better be leaving now. Terribly sorry to interrupt your – erm – stories." She looked at him for a minute more, and slowly turned her head to face the sign above the shop on the corner. Her eyes widened a bit, and before they could escape, she spoke again.

"Oh, yes! That was what I came out for. Bread. Or – er – was it fish? Well, perhaps I'll just have to buy bread _and_ fish, and I should feed whatever I don't use to the birds. But – do birds eat fish? Or, for that matter, do birds eat bread?" She stared expectantly our heroes, as if waiting for an answer. Exchanging a quick glance with each other, they decided to humor the poor woman.

"I'm not quite sure," Remus mused, while exchanging somewhat of a wink with James, "But I believe that birds eat bread, and not fish. Perhaps, if you use the bread, you could feed the birds to the fish?" At this last sentence, the boy received an elbow in the side from James.

James said: "Or, Mrs. MacArthur, you could return the fish, perhaps."

"I'll do that, dears. Come on then." And with a swagger to her step, intentional or not, she led a confused pair into the store.

James and Remus didn't manage to lose her whilst in the store, though rather drunk, she seemed to have a keen eye for those she meant to follow. In the soup, pasta, and bread aisle, they tried to steal into the next while Mrs. MacArthur was deciding which kind of bread to buy, but before they had gotten past chicken noodle, she was behind them once more, saying, "Where to next, lads?"

By the time they had reached the payment line, James, for one, had about had it with this woman. She was quite bothersome, and James was certainly not known for his patience. Remus had, for the last five minutes, desperately been trying to restrain his friend from throwing a fit, or swearing at their accomplice. But James had, no doubt, had it. They had been standing in a rather long line for several minutes, and the cashier was nearly ready to see them, when Mrs. MacArthur, looking to their left, exclaimed:

"Look! That line over there's quite a lot shorter than this one we're in now! What are we waiting for? Let's go!" And she pulled them with remarkable force three lines down – they were now seventh in line. Thought it was true that their current line was a bit shorter than the last one they had been in, they were not _quite_ as far up as they had been. The boys watched enviously as the couple who had once been behind them left the store, bags in hand. Unfortunately, the clerk whom they were to deal with was taking an exceptionally long time with each and every customer. So Remus and Sirius looked around for anything good to read. Unfortunately, they found nothing. Mrs. MacArthur, however, found an extremely interesting music magazine, especially fascinating when read upside-down, or so the boys concluded from their companion's position. Finally, after a fair few rounds of Arguing About Nothing (a game invented by James, in order to pass the waiting time), a voice called out, in monotone:

"Next." Realizing that they were being addressed, Remus stopped his friend in the middle of saying 'did not', and ushered him and the woman to forge ahead. They put their items on the table, and the woman, who had straggly brown hair, and looked as if this was the last place she wanted to be, looked up at them. Still in that annoying, bored, monotone voice, she spoke.

"This is the express lane," she announced, "Five items or less." As she shoved a sign in their faces saying exactly that, they were pushed out of the line, while the woman called "next" again.

James' patience had just bubbled over the top.

"Thanks, Mrs. MacArthur, Thanks a lot. Now we can wait in that line all over again. Thanks so much." And he stalked away, making sure to tread on her toes as he went. Remus hurried after his friend. Mrs. MacArthur, still not extremely sober, stared after them, puzzling over what on earth they were doing.

Approaching the monotonic clerk, he shoved her current customers out of his way, and violently slammed his groceries down. She stared at him, unenthusiastically, and said:

"Excuse me. You have to wait in line just like the rest of the customers."

"Wait in line!" He yelled. He was now attracting attention from as far away as aisle six. "Wait in line! Remus, do you hear this? She wants us to wait in line!" Remus was burying his face in his hands, and shaking his head, all the while muttering things such as 'James', 'stupid git', and 'stupid git'. In aisle two, the theory was that he was too embarrassed to think of anything more creative.

"I can't believe you!" James continued shouting at the clerk; "I waited in that line for almost 30 full _______ (censored) minutes! And then, you make us do it again! What next, tell us the only place we can check out is in _America_ for goodness' sake? Jeez! Will you _please_ just let us buy our stuff already!" The woman stared at him a moment, and slowly, very slowly, she began to laugh. Actually, it probably took all of a second, but due to the atmosphere, James could have sworn it was a full minute. Remus could have sworn it was a full hour. Mrs. MacArthur would ask you what in the devil you were talking about.

Anyhow, the cashier, who's name happened to be Ann, was nearly doubling up, and everyone from aisles one through ten were chortling, and Remus and James were exchanging bamboozled looks, neither could understand what anyone could possibly think was funny about the situation.

About ten minutes later, when Ann had finally stood up once more, and wiped the tears from her eyes, she gave them their groceries for free, claiming that they had "paid in laughter". James hadn't really meant to make them laugh, he had confided in Remus, but they decided to take the free groceries anyway. Besides, they would be late meeting Sirius and Peter.

They hurried out of the shop, glancing at Mrs. MacArthur as they passed, who looked as though she had passed out in the diaper section.

"Really, I wouldn't be surprised if half of the people in London were proclaimed mad by the government."

"And I'm sure that Sirius' mother will be one of them if we don't get there in time. Come on, let's go." 

Author's Note ---- Well, there you have it, part three. Part four coming soon, whether you like it or not. Sorry this part took so long, my teachers are being very evil to me. Special thanks goes out to my Beta-Reader, ~Idgit~. Thanks for your help! Anyway, please be so kind as to leave a review. Thanks, and have a nice day.

Disclaimer ---- All characters that you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling. Anything or anyone else belongs to me.


	4. The Fun Begins

Of Christmas Pies

Of Christmas Pies

__

What happens when the four students most likely to cause disaster that Hogwarts has ever produced team up, and try and bake a pie? The disaster that is sure to occur can only be something to laugh at. Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs in their most exciting adventure yet.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Peter and Sirius could hear the sounds of two sets of feet hitting the pavement. They were sprinting home, for fear they would be late in meeting Remus and James.

At the same time, from the other direction, the other two boys were doing the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons.

Eventually they ran into each other. Peter trod on Remus' toe, and James sent Sirius sprawling to his bottom, on the hard pavement. Dazed, they looked around, and realizing that it was – well – each other, Remus helped Sirius to his feet, while Peter apologized to him about his toe, and James picked up the groceries and returned them to their proper bags.

"Well," said Peter, after this was all through, "Fancy meeting you here." They all grinned, Sirius gave Peter a pat on the back, and the reunited quartet walked in the entrance of their apartment. Upon arriving at their door, they unlocked it, walked in, and set the bags of groceries down on the table in the kitchen.

"Oi," said Peter, "I definitely think that that was loads more trouble than it was worth." James and Remus nodded in agreement, but Sirius said, in a pesky, advertising voice:

"But that's not all! Remember, we still get to enjoy the pleasures of baking!" He grinned. Peter shuddered. Remus groaned. James shook his head.

"Good. Then let's get to it, shall we?"

And so, this was how the four boys could be found sitting, attempting to tie aprons, oven burning, at eleven o'clock on Christmas morning. Sirius had insisted on wearing the aprons, but was just nice enough to let the others get away with plain white ones, rather than some identical to his which read, in clear letters across the front: _'Watch out. I'm the cook. I've got a spatula.'_

Peter was the fastest to get the hang of tying the knot in the back, and he began to skim the recipe.

"Good lord," he said, "Sirius, this is a lot harder than it looks. Are you sure we can do it?" But Sirius wasn't listening. He was too busy convincing Remus to put on the apron, which the other apparently wasn't about to do. Peter was in no mood for this – and he, like James, was not known to keep his temper well.

"Bloody Hell, Sirius! Listen to me!" He had yelled this as loud as he could, and Sirius was staring at him, for it was a rare moment when Peter's temper had broken so stiffly that he was forced to yell for the all of London, and Yorkshire, too. And neither was it often that Sirius was so surprised that he found himself at a loss of words.

But, alas, we digress.

When Sirius once again found his voice, he spoke to Peter in his usual grinning manner.

"Really?" But that was all. He didn't have a terribly long attention span, and this wasn't very holding. He resumed chasing Remus, who had taken the convenient silence to hide behind the oven. Peter only sighed, he was now well aware that he wasn't going to be able to hold onto his friend's attention. 

Ten minutes or so later, when Remus had agreed to wear the white apron _if_ he might be allowed to do the stirring of ingredients, the four were ready to begin the _hard_ part.

"Alright," said James, reading the recipe, "It says we should stir ¾ of a cup of sugar and ¼ of a cup of cornstarch in a bowl together." Remus grinned.

"I get to do that!" he said, snatching a large wooden spoon and a ceramic bowl that Lily had given James on his birthday last. "Right, Sirius?"

"Right. Get on with it, then." So Remus did. He began stirring, and didn't stop until the two were completely mixed.

"Next we – oh, shoot, we forgot a step!" James cursed angrily, and went off to grab the cherries. He rinsed them, leaving a cup of water in the bowl. And, as he was walking back over to where his friends were standing, he tripped over Peter's shoes, lying on the floor.

The wet cherries went flying and landed on Remus, and James went sprawling onto the floor, skinning both knees on the unpolished linoleum.

"Ow!" James cried out. And he let out another long string of curses. Sirius rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Great, James, wonderful. You've killed the cherries! Now I've got to go buy new ones!" As he walked towards the door, Peter said to James and Remus in a low voice:

"I'd better go with him. Alone, he'll probably end up drunk and in bed with some cocker spaniel or something. You never know…" James and Remus were forced to work very hard to keep strait faces as Sirius strode out the door, Peter chasing after him, yelling at him to wait. When they were finally out of the door, the two remaining boys needed only to exchange glances before they were thrown into a fit of laughter.

When they had finished, and Remus had taken off his apron for the time Sirius wasn't around, he made a suggestion.

"Why don't we," he said, "work on the pie while they're gone? We won't be late, and we won't risk Sirius screwing something up." James's eyes lit up like candles.

"That's an excellent idea!" He grabbed his bowl and mixed a few more times. Remus picked up the recipe.

"Great! I hoped you'd think so. Now, the instructions say –"

"Moony," James cut his friend off. "Directions are for girls. Now come on. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out."

"Famous last words," Remus muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." James started emptying out all of the bags of groceries that each team had brought back. When he began on the last bag, his face changed from delight to bewilderment faster than a flick of Professor McGonagall's wand.

"I don't think we'd need that much peanut butter for only one pie," he said.

"Er – Prongs," began Remus, "The directions don't say anything about Peanut Butter…"

"Remus, what did I just tell you?"

"Yes, yes I know. I'll shut up. Do it your way."

So James shrugged his shoulders, and got a spoon from the drawer. He opened one of the jars of peanut butter, and began spooning it all into the powdery mixture, which was quickly becoming sticky. After two-and-a-half jars, he stood back to admire his work, licking his peanut-buttery fingers.

"Well then," he said, "I think that's enough peanut butter." Remus stood, shaking his head, aghast, at the sight. The once floury mixture looked almost like pure peanut butter.

"Well," he said to himself, hearing Sirius and Peter's footsteps outside, "maybe they won't notice."

Sirius came bursting in, a month's supply of cherries in his arms, followed by a very out-of-breath Peter.

Peter rinsed the cherries in a bowl, and poured the cherry liquid leftover into the bowl of peanut butter. Peter noticed something was amiss. Sirius didn't. The former looked at Remus, and raised his eyebrows. Remus rolled his eyes, and mouthed the words 'Long story. I'll tell you about it later."

The chefs continued to mix the ingredients, without any further trouble. And finally, it was time to stick it in the oven.

"It says to stick it in the oven for 25 minutes at a temperature of 375 degrees," Sirius read.

"We don't have time for that," said Peter, glancing at his watch. "We're supposed to be at your Mum's at two, Sirius. It's quarter of. Even if we apparate there, the pie won't be done."

"I have an idea!" It was James who made the announcement. "We could just double the temperature, and cut the time in half! It'll work for sure!" No one could see any reason why this mightn't work, so they did. They set a timer for twelve-and-a-half minutes, and set the oven at 750 degrees.

Sirius went off to take a quick nap, James went to read his new Wimbourne Wasps Quidditch Handbook, and Remus and Peter lingered about the kitchen, waiting.

"So," said Peter, "What _was_ wrong with the ingredients when Sirius and me got back?"

"Ugh," groaned the other, rolling his eyes, "_That._ Well, I guess it was my fault, I made a suggestion that James and I would work on the pie while you were gone, so we would have a better chance of being on time. He said it was a great idea, emptied out the groceries, and decided not to read the instructions, even though I told him to. So he put a couple of jars of the peanut butter you and Sirius bought, and then you came home." Peter slapped his palm to his forehead.

"That absolute _moron_!"

"Why? What's going to happen?" But Peter didn't answer his friend. He was too busy putting his fingers in his ears. "Err – Peter?"

Peter opened one squeezed shut eye, and said, "Just cover your ears. Trust me."

Not five seconds after jamming his index fingers into his ears, there came a deafening explosion.

****

BANG!

Sparks flew, and Peter rushed to turn the oven off, while Remus grabbed his wand, shouted a spell, and sent water shooting from it. It put out the fire just as Sirius and James came running in.

"What happened?" inquired James, aghast, as the smoke began to clear. Remus shot his friend a look.

"It was your Peanut Butter. And maybe the oven being too hot, also."

"But – but – that idea was supposed to _work!_" spluttered Sirius.

"Well," said Peter sensibly, "It obviously didn't, now did it?" Sirius couldn't argue with that very well at all.

"I wonder," mused James, "If the pie survived the explosion." The four glanced at one another, and then turned their gazes toward the oven, which had finally stopped smoking.

Slowly, without taking his eyes from the contraption, Peter reached behind him, running his hand along the counter until he came to a pair of oven mitts. Eyes still in the same spot, he slid them gently on his fingers, and reached forward, towards the hot oven door.

He pulled, and another burst of smoke poured into his face. Peter brought his fist to his mouth and coughed, but still kept his squinting vision focused on the inside of the oven.

The boy spotted the near-destroyed pie-pan, pulled it out, and placed it on the couter.

***

_Disclaimer:_ The characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. Anything else belongs to me.

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Author's Note: I'm really _terribly_ sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. For a while, I wasn't allowed online and then we went to somewhere without computers for a week and a half. But anyway, It's finally out! Hooray for me! Special thanks goes to my cousin for Beta-reading this for me. By the way, in writing this, I'm referring to a real recipe for Cherry Pie, and if anyone wants a copy, email me, and I'll be happy to send it to you: [cheshirecat@fanfiction.net][1]

Please be so kind as to leave a review. Thank you, and have a wonderful day (or night). 

   [1]: mailto:cheshirecat@fanfiction.net



	5. Afterword

Of Christmas Pies

Of Christmas Pies

****__

What happens when the four students most likely to cause disaster that Hogwarts has ever produced team up, and try and bake a pie? The disaster that is sure to occur can only be something to laugh at. Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs in their most exciting adventure yet.

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****

AFTERWORD:

"Hello, Mum?" It was Sirius, talking with his Mother on the phone again. He had called her as soon as he could. Or, rather, as soon as they had finished calling Lily. And Elizabeth. And the Chinese restaurant. Anyhow, he called her as soon as he could use the phone.

"Yes, er, I'm really terribly sorry that we can't make it for dinner. Yes, you see, James's friend broke his arm, you see? And He wanted to go to the hospital to make sure this friend was alright. And, Remus didn't want to go without James, he didn't want to be the only full-blood there, you know how it is, and then Peter wouldn't go without Remus, you know, I think he's rather scared of me, and I reckoned, 'What's the point of going alone?' So, Mum, you see, sorry we can't make it."

James, Remus, Peter, Lily, and Elizabeth were sitting around in the middle of the room, dully listening to Sirius's distant chatter. They were too full and happy to think much of it.

"Well," said James, throwing a set of chopsticks into an empty carton, "That was quite delicious if I do say so myself, which I do."

"Yes, it really was good," agreed Lily, giving him a kiss on the cheek. James grinned, and raised his eyebrows at Peter, who smirked, and put his arm around the girl beside him, Elizabeth. Remus smiled distantly at his friends, and suddenly, there was the sound of the phone hanging up.

Sirius came in, and plopped down on the couch beside Remus.

"Thanks for saving me so much food, you guys," he said sarcastically, picking up a two-thirds empty box of chow mien noodles. He picked up some chopsticks, and began stuffing his face.

"Lily and I have a surprise," said Elizabeth, glancing in the general direction of her friend. Sirius looked up. He had always been rather fond of surprises.

"Does it have anything to do with the mysterious white box you brought with you when you came?" Remus asked nonchalantly, not looking up from his book (One Dangerous Creature: An Autobiography of the Shrieking Vampire of Norway). Lily grinned at Remus, and then at Elizabeth.

"It does." The two walked into the kitchen, and returned a short moment later with their mysterious white box. Elizabeth was the first to speak.

"We've brought dessert!" And from the box, the girls produced a beautiful, lovely, perfect Cherry Pie.

The boys sat gaping. All of a sudden, Remus began to laugh. Peter joined in, and soon, all four were rolling around on the ground, clutching their sides and crying, unable to stop laughing.

And they didn't notice the two extremely disgruntled and befuddled girls.

***

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well. It's done. I'm sorry, all, but that's all there is, there isn't any more. It's been fun, though. Still, if anyone wants a copy of the recipe for cherry pie, leave your email in your review, or email me.

On another tangent, I'm deciding what to do for my next story. I have tons of ideas, but I can't seem to decide.

Anyhow, there are no more parts to this story. I'm sorry. I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me. And now I'm being redundant. G'bye.

Please be kind and leave a review. Have a nice day (or night). 


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